


A Winter Gift

by Celebrusc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, but he went out anyway, proposal, snowstorm, the fire very delightful, the weather outside was frightful, unexpected presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrusc/pseuds/Celebrusc
Summary: Outside the storm howled through the mountains and around the old stone castle, leaving a blanket of white in its wake. But Victor payed no thought to the snow matted into his hair, sliding in icy droplets down his neck, too caught up in he sight of his girlfriend curled up reading by light of the fire.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a belated birthday present for @adaughteroffreyja on tumblr.   
> I've never written Victor Krum/Hermione before, never written Victor Krum before actually. And I've never posted any of my Harry Potter writing before. Still, I promised them a Victor/Hermione ficlet for their birthday, and they got one.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

 

  
  
The library was dark when he stepped inside, but it was not pitch black, thus betraying the presence of its occupant. As he moved forward the door closing behind him with a dull thud, and the snow still clinging to his boots left a trail of melted footprints on the flagstones behind him. It didn’t take Victor long to find her, following the faint trace of light and heat from the central fire. But when he rounded the stacks his breath was stolen all over again.

Her hair glowed a burnished chestnut in the fire light. Cascading around her face, escaping from the ribbon tying it back, as untameable as its owner. Hermione’s nose was inches from a thick tomb, feet clad only in thick stockings tucked up on the armchair as she curled close into herself for warmth and comfort. A cold half-drunk mug of tea resting on the floor. Victor heavily suspected that his girlfriend hadn’t consciously noticed the darkness that had descended, fairly sure that she’d not moved from the arm chair she was burrowed into since lunch.

Outside the storm let out a particularly violent howl, shaking the old windows as it passed, and neither Hermione, nor her equally as stubborn feline (which was occupying the other armchair), so much as twitched.

Reluctant as he was to disturb the peaceful scene in front of him, Victor knew from experience Hermione wouldn’t move until prompted to. And was likely to give herself both headache and sore neck from reading in that position in such poor light.

Making sure his footsteps sounded loudly against the floor, Victor moved behind Hermione’s chair, and gently brushed her hair back behind her ear, before sliding his hands to rest on her shoulders. Thick wool tickling against his palms. He lent down and gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Hermione let out a contented rumble, not unlike that of her familiar, and broke away from her book. Tilting her head back to catch his lips in a gentle kiss.

“Greatly.” She blinked for a moment. “Though when did it get so dark?”

“Some time ago I suspect. Light passes quickly in the mountains.”

Slipping her wand from where it had been tucked close at hand between cushion and chair, Hermione quickly lit the candles both on the mantelpiece and overhead. Closing the book, she placed it carefully on the arm as she slid to her feet. Deftly managing to avoid the cold stone in favour of the slippers that had been resting under the chair.

She stepped forward to embrace her boyfriend properly, only to step back quickly from the cold dampness dripping against her neck. “Your hair is soaked!”

“It is snowing, moyata lyubov, it is to be expected.”

“Only if you insist on going outside in this weather.”

Victor brushed that unruly lock back out of her eyes and smiled. “Are you saying you would not play in the snow, moyata printsesa?” He teased. Remembering all too clearly the snowball fight she’d started after putting away their skis the day before. A snowball fight that had left them both white from head to toe. “Besides, I needed to collect your gift, no?”

Hermione blinked, taking a step back out of him embrace. “Gift?”

“Unless you do not want it?” She scowled at his teasing, even as he lowered the bag from his shoulder to remove the silver wrapped rectangle.When he had first given Hermione a present, he had expected her to be the sort to delicately remove the paper, to keep for some future purpose. Thus he had been surprised when after a careful surveillance of the package she had quickly and efficiently ripped it to shreds. Today went no differently.

With a care that defied the destructiveness of moments before, Hermione opened the plain box that had been within to reveal an old worn book. Or rather, an old worn book cover inlayed on the outside of a book shaped box. The cover was a worn beige, with a lion carrying two small children under two trees, watched by a pair of fauns.

Placing the outer package on the back of the chair beside her, Hermione lifted out the box, running a silent and awestruck hand over the faded, but still clearly legible, _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. Her hands were trembling as she opened the box inlaid with the first edition cover of her favourite book from her child hood, a difficult find, but Victor’s eyes were focused on hers. The moment she caught sight of the pale yellow gold ring, inset a twisting strands of small emeralds that encircled one clear diamond, he sank to one knee on the icy floor. Her hand jerking back from the ring to her mouth as she gasped, eyes wide, flickering between the ring and him.

“Hermione, Hermowninny, my warrior princess, will you marry me?”

She didn’t hesitate, hauling him to his feet into a firm kiss. “Yes,” She practically squealed. “Yes, I will.”

This time it was his hands, normally so deft and sure, that were shaking as he slid the ring onto her finger.

And outside the storms howled, battering against the old stone walls. But inside they were safe, and warmed by the fire of their love, and in that moment at least, safe from the ice of any witch or wizard wishing them ill.

 

 

_moyata lyubov - my love  
moyata printsesa - my princess_


End file.
